happy 30th birthday, mr. hobson

The day you wished would never come when you were 18 has finally arrived. This morning, you woke up and welcomed 30 as you looked back the past three decades and wondered how time passed so quickly. Now that you’re 30, it doesn’t seem so old, does it? I think you’ll get along just fine. After all, you constantly remind me that you’re like a fine wine, only getting better with age. And so far in our marriage of 2.5 years, I tend to agree.

One day, 40 or 50 years from now, when memories slip and recollections of good times fade, I’ll remind you of those days in your twenties when you didn’t have a care in the world and every day was a new adventure. I’ll remind you how the only shirts in your closet were all polos. But knowing you, you’ll be wearing them at 80. I’ll remind you of your spontaneity, especially when it came to trips to South America and improptu dance parties. I’ll remind you of your frequent searches for salmon salad at 1 a.m. in the middle of the Highlands. I’ll remind you of your brief obsession of wearing sunglasses at dark after a night on the town. I’ll remind you of all those active things we used to do, like CrossFit, Sunday sprints, trail hikes, rock climbing and afternoons at Piedmont Park. I’ll remind you of the full life we lived in our twenties, and the eagerness with which we anticipated our thirties.

I wish you the best birthday imaginable, celebrating in Athens…on Game Day…with Tennessee in our backyard.